Chance Encounter
by Lieutenant Dan
Summary: Data is approached by Starfleet Intelligence to infiltrate an Orion Syndicate stronghold and seize an experimental weapon.


**_STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION:_**

**_CHANCE ENCOUNTER_**

STARDATE: 44092.3

NEUTRAL SPACE

ORAMA SIX, PLANETSIDE

CENTRAL MARKET/SPACE PORT

"Lieutenant Commander Data?"

The golden skinned android looked up from the piece of merchandise he had been carefully examining. "Yes, sir," he confirmed. Data looked the man up and down dispassionately. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Could I have a word with you? In private."

Data regarded him with an approximation of regret. "I am currently engaged in an anthropological survey of Oraman trade rituals on the behalf of the Federation. I am afraid-"

"Please," he interrupted. "This is important."

Data considered the matter for a moment. "Very well," he agreed.

The nondescript human male led him to a bench located near a cluster of merchant booths that had already closed for the day. He gestured for the Starfleet officer to sit.

"Commander, my name is Agent Carver," he began. "I'm the Starfleet Intelligence contact for the Oraman system." He stopped and looked at Data, expecting some reaction, but got only a placid stare. "My assignment here is coming to a head," he continued. "Action must be taken immediately, or else there will be horrible consequences for the Federation."

"Can you elaborate on the specifics of the situation?" Data asked.

"Not here," Carver replied. "They have nearly the entire space port under surveillance." He shifted in his seat, glancing around anxiously. "I shouldn't even be having a conversation with someone in a Starfleet uniform in the open." He hissed through his teeth in self-admonishment.

"How do you suggest we proceed?" Data prodded him.

Carver produced a small flask from the fold of his tunic and took a generous swig from it. He then slumped forward, falling onto Data's shoulder. The android looked down at him with surprise.

"Agen-"

"-If you're serious about helping me," Carver muttered quickly in Data's ear, "meet me in the alley behind warehouse number 217 in the Flaxian quarter. One hour."

"I will do so," Data said, perplexed.

"Good. Now straighten me up."

Data complied and Carver leaned against the back of the bench, his head thrown all the way back. He moaned loudly and mumbled some gibberish, gesturing in Data's direction with the flask.

Data stood, taking the flask from the agent's hand. "I suggest you refrain from imbibing anymore alcohol this evening," he offered helpfully. Carver squinted back at him through his pseudo-inebriation. Data leaned in and winked in an exaggerated motion.

As the android walked off, Carver's moaning became all the more convincing.

Fifty-seven minutes later, Data stepped into the alley way designated by Carver. In the interim since their last encounter the sun had gone down, and other than a derelict lying beneath a ragged blanket near the mouth of the alley, little else could be seen.

"He's dead," Carver said, stepping out of the shadows. Data glanced down at the body. "When I first saw him I was going to offer a few strips of latinum if he'd move on and let me assume his identity for this meet," he continued. "I suppose it's just as well- to any observers it would appear you were doing more humanitarian work in a day than even a Starfleet officer could handle." Carver gave a slight, wry smile.

"Yes," the android replied. "The Federation does engage in futile exercises of social work with some frequency." Carver narrowed his brow slightly at that statement. "I am still experimenting with banter," Data explained. "Was my response appropriate?"

Carver shrugged. "I'm not really one for bantering."

"Ah," Data said.

"I've set up sensor dampening emitters around this location," Carver said. "We should be able to speak without being monitored."

"In that case," Data said, "I believe this would be a good time for you to explain the details of your mission on Orama Six."

"The nature of that information is extremely sensitive. I'm going to need to know that you're in before I divulge anything."

"And I will need more than the simple knowledge that a mission is taking place, before I blindly agree to participate in it," Data responded.

Carver nodded. "You're a good deal more shrewd than I might have expected, Mr. Data. That should prove helpful to you in this situation." Data stood his ground calmly while the agent looked him over, apparently sizing him up.

"All right," Carver said finally. "I'll lay the key points down for you. But first," Carver paused, removing a small data pad from his pocket, "I want you to take note of this document." Data placed his thumb on the scroll button and began speed-reading. "As you can see, by order of Vice Admiral Fujisaki you are required to keep all knowledge of this operation classified."

"Acknowledged," Data said, having already finished the lengthy document. "Please proceed."

"Near the outskirts of the space port complex there is a compound, which Intel has had under surveillance for nearly two years. It is controlled by an organization known as the Orion Syndicate. I trust you're acquainted with this group."

"Indeed," Data answered solemnly.

Carver nodded and continued. "The Syndicate has been developing a device, the details of which I will withhold as need-to-know information until you've agreed to take up the mission. But suffice it to say that this instrument poses a particularly brutal threat to the Federation. I need you to help me take it from them."

"Agent Carver," Data began, "Starfleet Intelligence is one of the most resourceful and thorough agencies in the quadrant. I am curious as to how a situation developed under your scrutiny in which the success or failure of the operation would rest on the decision of a single Starfleet officer."

"I'm afraid that the fault rests with me," Carver answered. "I underestimated their level of productivity. The information I provided headquarters with led them to project completion of the prototype in one week. Now it seems they'll be ready to put the device to use by tomorrow morning, and my unit won't arrive for at least three days."

"I understand," Data said. He took a step towards Carver. "And I agree to lead the mission and obtain the device from the Orions."

"_Lead?"_ the agent laughed. "I guess that sense of humor is improving after all."

Data turned the corners of his lips upward into a small, odd smile.

"Now there's something else you need to know, Commander," Carver said. "Even if my unit had been here in time, tactical branch still hasn't been able to devise a workable plan for getting the men into the building."

"Why is that?" the android asked innocently. "Do they share similar faults to those you have demonstrated?"

Carver cleared his throat. "Actually, the compound has one of the most intricate security systems ever conceived. We can't go with a frontal assault because the Federation has no jurisdiction on Orama. A covert breach is the only other option, and frankly, no humanoid has the speed or abilities needed to successfully capture the device."

"But an android does," Data finished.

"Right," agreed Carver.

Data nodded. "I will need you to furnish me with specifications of the security system."

Carver produced a second data pad and keyed in a decryption code. "This contains all the information we've gathered on the compound, and on the device. That should bring you completely up to speed."

Data took the pad and immediately began absorbing the information. After about twenty seconds he looked up. "I will need clothing free of Federation markings, as well as a tricorder and a phaser not used by Starfleet."

"Not a problem. I'll give you my Romulan tricorder- it's compact and dead accurate. Picked it up a few years back from a former Tal-Shiar competitor." Carver smiled at the memory. "What's your pleasure weapons-wise?" he asked. "I have access to a fairly broad selection."

"Do you have a Veron-T disruptor?"

"What?" asked Carver in disbelief. "That thing is outlawed in every civilized sector I can think of."

"So you do not have one?"

"Absolutely not," Carver said. He studied Data's face closely. "You're a strange one, aren't you?"

"I am merely trying to gather the most efficient equipment possible for a highly dangerous mission," Data answered easily. "Perhaps a Romulan disruptor then, to compliment the tricorder."

"That I can get for you," Carver said.

"There is one more thing I will require," Data said.

Carver eyed him wearily. "And what would that be?"

"A large quantity of jezbar disks- twenty or so should be sufficient."

"Isn't jezbar an Andorian version of frisbee?"

"Indeed," Data answered.

Carver gave the android a look as if to question his request, then apparently thought better of it, and settled on simply shaking his head. He turned away slightly and spoke into his wrist comlink, recording a verbal reminder to pick up Data's gear. "Well, that should be everything," the agent said. "Regulations require that you don't advise the _Enterprise_ of your new assignment- not that it would be possible anyway. The atmospheric disturbance only allows for one communications window per day. The next one won't come until after you've completed the mission."

"Understood," Data said. "Where will I pick up the necessary items for the operation?"

"Right here," Carver answered. "It's twenty-forty-six hours right now. Be back at oh-three-hundred. Your gear will be in a black duffel behind those empty crates down at the other end. You'll leave for the compound directly from there."

"Acknowledged. Will I deliver the prototype to you here as well?"

Carver put his hand on his chin and thought about it for minute. "That probably wouldn't be the best idea. By the time you're through with the job, the morning shift around here will have started up. Go to the Royal Bolian Hotel. I'll be in room 512. As you'll just have infiltrated an Orion Syndicate stronghold, it's very possible they'll be combing the space port for you." Carver paced back and forth a bit. "I'll put an Oraman monk's hooded cloak in with the duffel. As soon as you're out of sight of the compound, throw it on. When you reach the hotel, use the service turbolift just to be safe. Got it?"

The android nodded.

The Orion Syndicate stronghold was located in a centuries-old palace that had once belonged to a family of Oraman nobles. Where there had once been a large set of ornate wooden double doors marking the entrance to the structure, the efficient organized crime coalition had installed a massive neutronium door, capable of withstanding the blast from anything short of a photon torpedo. For good measure and to discourage unwanted visitors, two enormous Nausican guards stood in flanking position.

Off to one side, a gold skinned figure emerged from the darkness, clad in all black. He walked towards the door briskly and calmly, each footfall measured and barely making a sound.

What the Nausicans lacked in intelligence was made up for by alertness. The one closest to the intruder immediately raised his disruptor rifle and barked something in his native tongue. The figure ceased his approach and remained impossibly still.

By this time both guards had their weapons trained on him, and the first turned his head to instruct the second to check him for weapons. He then turned back to the intruder.

And grazed the man's nose with his chin upon completing the motion.

Before the Nausican could react, the gold skinned intruder moved with impossible speed, taking hold of the guard's head and spinning it with a resounding crack. He grabbed the hilt of a long dagger and let it slip from the Nausican's belt as the body fell. As the second guard lined up the form of the attacker in his sights, the blade came spinning through the night, catching the glimmer of the security lights only once before embedding directly between the alien's eyes. He dropped to the ground with a muffled thud.

The android stepped into the area directly in front of the door. He looked from one side to the other at the two bodies strewn about in horrendous positions. He then rubbed his palms together briskly in the human gesture of a job well done, and set to work on hot wiring the door.

The portal had a three-prong security system. Within minutes, Data had managed to crack the alpha-numeric code sequence that was normally entered on the key pad adjacent to the door. He then picked up the Nausican closest to his feet, held him erect by the scruff of his neck, and used his free hand to sufficiently animate the corpse to provide the door sensor with a retinal scan. He dropped the body unceremoniously to the ground upon completion.

Finally, Data needed to overcome the voice-pattern recognition system. Taking a chance that it was programmed to admit the guards- but with the knowledge that the system would respond only to the harmonics of a voice, as opposed to the harmonics accompanied by a predetermined phrase- he spoke a precise imitation of the order that the Nausican had shouted at him just moments earlier. An indicator beneath the key pad flashed green. With each of the three steps having been completed, the immense door slid aside.

Having spent the past several hours studying the specifications of the security system and the architectural designs of the palace, Data knew exactly what waited for him inside. The Orion Syndicate valued their privacy for obvious reasons, and the obstacles still to come would intensify in both complexity and lethality as the android made his way closer to the laboratory where the device was being stored. He pulled the glossy black Romulan disruptor from its holster and walked through the doorway.

The foyer immediately beyond the door was very spacious, about the size of two of the _Enterprise's_ holodecks combined, with equally high ceilings. The room was perfectly rectangular, and every surface was comprised of the same monotone metallic surface. There was no furniture or objects of any kind, save for a door or hatch of some kind that was flush with the wall at the far end of the room.

Data walked to the center of the chamber. He held his weapon at the ready in his left hand, while his right hand was partially inserted in a large pouch strapped to his abdomen. He began a silent countdown.

Upon reaching zero, Data calmly dropped to one knee as a pink energy bolt sizzled past where his head had just been. The bolt struck the floor behind and to the right of him, and ricocheted first into the wall, then the ceiling, and then shot back toward the other end of the room where it had originated. Before the laser's trajectory brought it back to Data's position, his right hand whipped free of the pouch, sending a paper-thin titanium jezbar disk into the laser's path. The eight-centimeter disk neatly intersected the beam and vaporized, leaving the vast chamber silent once again.

Data wasted no time, and immediately upon canceling the energy beam, fired his disruptor on full into the small port that had opened in the upper left corner of the ceiling. With a shower of sparks, the emitter was neutralized. The android instantly dropped into an agile crouch, and as expected, his acute hearing detected the sound of three other emitters emerging from each of the remaining ceiling corners.

Data tucked-and-rolled forward as three lasers intersected at the point where he had just been standing, each glancing off the floor in their respective directions. Data came out of his summersault two meters away and came up firing, taking out a second emitter while simultaneously whipping a disk back over his shoulder to intersect an incoming beam. He sidestepped the second beam and threw another disk toward the far end of the room, absorbing the third. Before Data could home in on the last bolt, the two remaining emitters each fired twice, shifting aim with each shot to keep the directions of the beams varied. Five bolts now zigzagged throughout the room.

By using his positronic brain to make calculations to keep track of the laser bolt trajectories, Data was able to stay one step ahead of the deadly energy bursts ricocheting around the chamber- provided he was able to keep the number of beams from growing too numerous. In that case, while he would know precisely when and where each laser bolt would be, it would become physically impossible- even for an android- to avoid them all.

Data dived to a spot against the wall where he had determined no laser bolts would strike for almost six seconds. When he hit the floor he rolled up into an upright fetal position, tucking his knees under his chin to minimize the target profile his body presented. Clutching his disruptor against his hip, he took aim at one of the two remaining emitters. Data's studies of the security systems indicated that upon reducing this room to a single emitter, that unit would go into a random rapid fire mode, blanketing the chamber with as many bolts moving in as many different directions as possible.

Data fired, sending a pencil-thin green beam into the emitter furthest away from him, reducing it to hot slag. As the last emitter began furiously spitting out lasers, the android's wrist instantly shifted and he fired a second shot. Only three bolts escaped the fourth unit before it was silenced.

At this point, eight deadly bolts ricocheted wildly throughout the chamber, creating a cacophony of shrill disruptor whines. Data still had three-and-a-half seconds left before a laser beam would intersect with his position. He placed his weapon on the floor next to him, not bothering to flinch as a beam struck the wall centimeters from his head before continuing on its way. He placed both hands into his belt pouch and took hold of one jezbar in each.

Data pushed off the wall a split second before a bolt reflected off the ceiling and struck the floor right where he had been crouched. The android leapt into a graceful, arcing dive as two more bolts sailed beneath him, one singeing the fibers on his black tunic. He tucked his torso forward so that he landed flat on his back, and snapped both of the disks he was carrying up towards the ceiling. Each one was vaporized, taking their respective beams with them.

During the next minute or so, Data engaged in what was perhaps the galaxy's most extraordinary display of physical movement by a bipedal entity. In a series of fluid motions, by way of jumps, dodges, rolls, and flips, interrupted only by the sporadic throws of jezbar disks, he managed to avoid and neutralize all six of the remaining laser beams.

When the last bolt was eliminated, Data braced himself, and without skipping so much as a beat, two large tiles in the floor slid away to reveal a ventilation grate beneath. With a rush of air that pulled at the folds in Data's clothing and whipped his synthetic hair into a frenzy, all the oxygen was sucked from the room. His disruptor skidded across the smooth floor from where he had left it and stuck on the grating screen, too large to pass through.

Within seconds, the chamber had become an airless vacuum, and the violent draft ceased. Data could feel the vibration of machinery shifting beneath the steel grates, and moments later, billows of yellow gas rose from the ducts. He pulled his Romulan tricorder from his belt and began a scan. The composition of the gas did not match any Data had encountered before, but the level of toxins he detected were evidence enough of its lethality. Soon the entire room became saturated by a dense fog.

Data knelt down on the grate and felt around for his disruptor. Upon locating it, he stepped back to stand on the floor immediately beyond the grate's edge. He activated the weapon and cut a hole about a meter in diameter through the metal screen. The piece fell away, clattering down the duct and leaving a white-hot circle in the remains of the grating.

Data leaped down after it.

The android fell about three stories before hitting a point where the ductwork curved. He slid on his back for another hundred meters, all the while passing through the noxious gas before finally landing in the storage tank itself. Data's feet struck ground with a solid clang, and he quickly moved his left foot as the molten edge of the severed grating had begun to eat through the sole of his boot.

Still clutching the tricorder in his right hand, he set the unit to provide information through an audio channel, as the gas made it impossible for him to read the display screen. A quick scan determined that he was exactly where he had expected to be.

Data tucked the tricorder back into his belt and leveled his disruptor at the wall of the gas tank. He fired a two-second burst set on wide-dispersal, vaporizing a sizable portion of the wall. Careful to avoid the smoldering edges, he stepped through the opening into the adjacent room, a large cloud of gas following him out. According to the architectural plans, he was in a portion of the sub-basement.

Data dusted himself off, and proceeded to walk over to the auxiliary turbolift shaft.

And his next challenge.

The next morning, Carver paced about his hotel room restlessly, waiting for the meter on his wrist communicator to indicate that the atmospheric interference had momentarily subsided, thereby opening a brief window for any transmissions. Finally, the comlink chirped in readiness, and he immediately opened a channel.

"Carver to Sloan."

"Go ahead," the voice at the other end replied.

"I have exciting news, sir."

"What is it?" Sloan asked.

"The interests of the mission have been considerably advanced since my last report," Carver answered with some excitement.

"But how can that be? The data you sent indicated that we would need the android to penetrate the facility."

"Yes, sir. But now there's no reason to lure him to Orama. He's already here."

"What? He's there right now?"

"Affirmative. He conducted the operation last night, and judging by the amount of Syndicate thugs I've seen skulking through the streets in the past hour, I'd say our artificial friend was successful."

"Remarkable," Sloan said. "And just what was Data doing on Orama?"

"Some anthropological survey on the natives. Typical Starfleet."

"And his story checked out?" Sloan asked.

"His story, sir?" Carver frowned.

"Yes," Sloan confirmed. "When you checked on his story what did you find?"

"Well, sir, I didn't actually run a check through usual channels. Given that he's the only Soong-type android still in existence, I felt any risks to be negligible and didn't want to lose the opportunity."

There was a long silence at the other end. Carver swallowed.

"All right," Sloan said finally. "I'll run it by our contact on the _Enterprise_ now. Standby."

"Acknowledged." The display on the comlink blinked into standby mode, and Carver dropped into a chair. He let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but still felt a bit unnerved by Sloan's sudden infusion of doubt.

Just then, the door chime sounded. Carver all but lunged for the door and checked the small view screen beside it. It displayed the image of an Oraman monk standing right outside.

Carver hit the open switch. "Data, thank god," he said, pulling the android into the room. The door slid shut behind them. "Please, tell me you got it."

"I got it," he answered simply.

Carver clasped his hands together loudly and laughed out loud. "Yes! Yes, Data!" He put a hand on the android's shoulder. "This is incredible," Carver said with a broad smile. "We have to offer you a job."

"With Starfleet Intelligence?"

Carver let out a short laugh. "Absolutely." Just then, his wrist communicator chirped. "Excuse me a second, Data." Carver turned away slightly. "Carver here," he said, still smiling.

"Carver," Sloan said with an edge in his voice, "Our man on the _Enterprise_ reports Commander Data is still onboard. The source also indicates that another Soong-type android recently appeared in the Trelina syst-"

Before Carver could even digest what Sloan was saying, a gold hand shot out and plucked the comlink directly from his wrist. He watched in fascinated horror as the android crushed it.

And smiled obscenely.

"What are you going to do?" Carver asked in a low voice.

"Well," Lore responded easily, "I had considered just flying the coop, as you humans say, with my new toy, leaving you to answer to whatever fool superior you're responsible to. But then I thought, why leave a trail for Starfleet to follow? I'll kill the agent, maintain anonymity, keep my toy, and be on my way."

The color drained from Carver's face.

"Of course," Lore continued absently, "I had hoped to get here before the communications window opened, but it just didn't work out. Now Starfleet knows I've been here, and killing you serves little purpose."

Carver nodded.

"Eh," Lore shrugged, pulling the vaunted device from his robes. He aimed it directly at Carver's chest and hit the activation switch.

Nothing happened.

"As I feared," Lore said with disappointment. "It won't function outside of the controlled lab environment." He causally flung the small unit over his shoulder.

Carver managed to uncoil himself and found his voice. "But you were listed as missing, presumed destroyed in our records."

Lore snorted. "Usually a safe assumption when someone is beamed into empty space. But I knew I'd find a way out of there." He began to look the agent over with a furrowed brow, as if trying to determine the best method of tearing him apart.

"Why are you on Orama?" Carver asked, desperate to keep him talking.

The android walked a slow circle around him. "I needed some parts for the Pakled vessel I appropriated. Orama had no Federation presence and fairly advanced space port facilities. It seemed ideal." Lore chuckled to himself softly and shook his head.

Carver steadied himself with a deep breath. "There's no reason Starfleet needs to know about any of this."

Lore gave him a look of utter disgust. "If you're going to start with all that quibbling, I'll make this ten times more agonizing for you. I'm already severely annoyed that I wasted my abilities on that worthless trinket. So choose your next words carefully."

Carver put both his hands out palms up and looked Lore right in his yellow eyes. "It's the truth, I swear it. I'm not even in Starfleet."

Lore crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I hope you have sadomasochistic tendencies, human."

"Hear me out," Carver pleaded. "We do work for the Federation's interests, but we are a completely autonomous organization. We don't file reports and we don't ask permission."

Lore cocked an eyebrow. "Intriguing. What do you boys call yourselves?"

Carver swallowed visibly, and paused in deep consideration. Finally he looked up. "Section 31," he answered.

"Catchy," Lore replied.

The agent took a step forward. "We could use an individual of your caliber working with us. There's no doubt in my mind that the organization would jump at the chance to recruit you."

"What a wild idea," Lore commented. "Data's notorious brother working for the Federation."

"It wouldn't be nearly so mundane. If you found this mission challenging-"

"Which I didn't."

"-it's just an appetizer," Carver finished. "31 has accomplished things you couldn't fathom. Once given access to our resources, the achievements of someone like you could be boundless."

"I like killing people," Lore said idly.

"Well not to demoralize our work, but we do more than our share of that."

"Intriguing," Lore repeated softly.

"Why don't we go to my ship- or yours, if you prefer," Carver prodded. "I'll take you back to HQ and we'll discuss your terms."

"Hmm," Lore pondered. "It's an interesting proposition to be sure. But truth be told, I've been contemplating your death to the point that if I backed out now… I just wouldn't feel complete. I imagine your remains will amply express my regrets."

Lore grinned, both wolfishly and maniacally.


End file.
